


Birthday Bird

by ZephiraZ



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephiraZ/pseuds/ZephiraZ
Summary: Wherein an aspiring mage performs a menial task in return for his very own Hawkstrider, and a paladin makes a new friend.





	

Solsang Lightweaver was beside himself with joy. Or perhaps indigestion, he wasn’t quite sure. The young elf had traveled with his parents to the Dinoriel Estate, nestled in the hills on the eastern coast of the Eversong Woods. Here dwelled the Dinoriel family, magisters who made their fortune breeding and selling hawkstriders. More importantly, here dwelled the Dinoriel family’s stable master and flock.

For decades the pure white birds raised here were coveted among Silvermoon’s nobility after it was discovered the then-prince favored them. No up-and-coming magister in training would be caught dead without a Dinoriel bird.

And Solsang’s parents had promised to buy him one.

“I’m sorry, but all my current flock is already reserved for sale.” The stable master Dranaethas, a whole head taller than Solsang and likely twice his weight in muscle alone, was missing an eye. That didn’t stop him from pinning the three Lightweavers with an entirely world-weary stare. “The next flock will be through with training by summer solstice, you can come back then. They tend to sell out the second they’re rideable, so you may wish to arrive early.”

“Are you certain there are none?” Auriel Lightweaver, just as short as her son and draped in a plain brown dress, asked. “It’s for our son’s birthday, he leaves to begin apprenticeship at Duskwither Academy in three days’ time. Surely there is at least one left. We will pay extra, please, just name your price!”

Dranaethas’ brow furrowed and he turned to dismiss the family, but he stopped in his tracks as a thought struck him. “Any price, you say?” he asked carefully, leveling his full attention on the family once more.

“Well, within reason,” Tyrus Lightweaver replied. “We work in the Silvermoon Bazaar; we’re not exactly wealthy, you see, but-”

“A trade, then.” Dranaethas studied Solsang intently, and Solsang could feel himself wither beneath the stable master’s stare. “Yes, you will do nicely. There is a task I must have you perform. In return, there is one bird from this flock that was deemed unsellable - a female with grey mottling inside her wings. Complete this task for me, and you may have her free of charge.”

“Hold on now, just what sort of task do you have in mind?” Tyrus protested, indignance seeping into his voice.

“Nothing that will harm him, assuming he knows how to handle those higher in life than he. Consider it practice for his days to come at the hands of Duskwither.”

His parents were ill at ease with the idea, but Solsang stepped forward with as much confidence as he could muster. “I’ll do it. Such an offer should not be passed up lightly, and I thank you for your generosity, sir.”

Dranaethas grinned widely, an odd glint in his good eye. “Excellent. Master and Mistress Lightweaver, you may see yourselves out. Should your son succeed, I will send him back to you with his new bird.”

After an encouraging nod from their son, Tyrus and Auriel retreated, and Solsang was left alone with the stable master. Without his parents beside him he suddenly felt much less confident. “What did you have in mind for me, sir?”

When he was certain no one else was within earshot, Dranaethas leaned in close and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s Master Dinoriel, the elder of the two brothers. That boy’s obsession with collecting pets is going to be the death of me. For Light’s sake, I’m a hawkstrider tamer, not a bloody zoologist! He’s in there with his latest prize right now, sitting at tea with his brother. Convince him to get rid of the damned thing, and you can have your blasted bird. Deal?”

“…You want me to waltz up to your master and tell him to get rid of his new pet?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

“No, no, just making sure.” Solsang drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for something he would certainly regret. No big deal, just have to lecture the son of a powerful magister, someone who makes more gold in a year than he would own in his entire lifetime. How hard could it be? “I’ll do it.”

“Great!” Dranaethas beamed and stood up straight, lines of worry melting from his face. “You will find Master Dinoriel in the sitting room off the main hall. Watch out for his brother, Vhanatos isn’t the most sociable of men. Don’t sit on any of the furniture or you’ll piss off any one of fifteen very territorial cats, and don’t stare too long at the portraits in the foyer. You’ll be fine!”

 

Something about the interior of Dinoriel Manor unsettled Solsang. Perhaps it was because he stared at the portraits in the foyer too long. Two massive paintings of a regal-looking magister and magistrix hung on the wall directly facing the entryway, each covered by transparent, black silk drapery. The previous Master and Mistress Dinoriel, slain when the Lich King swept through Quel'thalas.

A loud snarl startled Solsang out of his transfixion. He found himself standing face to face with a surly green wind rider, the beast’s fangs bared.

“Ah, nice kitty, easy there,” Solsang held his hands in front of him and backed away slowly. The wind rider held its ground, its barbed tail curved above its head in position to strike. “You don’t want to eat me, mages aren’t part of your diet! I’ll give you gas!”

Still the wind rider growled, but it advanced no further. Whether it was from his sweet talking or the fact that he wasn’t staring at the portraits anymore, Solsang didn’t wait to find out. He bolted for the nearest closed door and gathered his mana about him, blinking out of existence a split second before colliding with the door. When he rematerialized a moment later a carpet snagged his foot and sent him sprawling to the floor.

The new room was thankfully devoid of giant cats. Within was a smattering of chairs and small worktables littered with glass vials and various alchemical reagents, all illuminated by shifting, colourful lights. Solsang stood and idly brushed the creases from his robe, searching for the source of the light. At the far end of the room sat an elf dressed in plain white robes, hunched over a glowing crystal ball. His disheveled black hair hung down in sheets, obscuring Solsang’s view of the globe. A full cup of tea, long since cooled, sat untouched within arm’s reach.

“Er, hello?” Solsang asked tentatively. “Might you be Master Dinoriel?”  
The other elf did not respond, nor make any move to acknowledge Solsang’s presence. “Yes, well, I’m looking for the Master of this house, I would like to-”

“Anar'alah belore!” the elf cursed as a blinding light flashed from within the globe. He knocked his chair over in his haste to stand and hurled his crystal ball at the nearest wall before hastily leaving the room. Just as quickly as he left did another elf peek in, golden blond bangs framing inquisitive eyes.

“Why hello there, are you a friend of Vhanatos?” the new elf asked, stepping fully into the room. Half divested of heavy plate armor, he wore rich silks and still kept his two-handed sword strapped to his back. Behind him trailed what looked like a massive blue bug with bulging eyes, spotted, leathery wings, and a thin, curved tail. If he wasn’t mistaken, Solsang could swear that thing was a giant fae dragon. Surely none existed in that size, they never grew larger than a small dog.

“Well, actually I-”

“Good, good, V needs more friends. Doesn’t get out enough, I say!”

“Uh…”

“Oh, pardon my manners! I’m Mordenai, master of this house. You’ve already met my brother there. And you might be?”

“Solsang Lightweaver. Pleased to meet you sir Mordenai, and your, ah, pet?”

Mordenai grinned and patted the massive fae dragon’s rump, eliciting a pleased chirp. “This is Cake! She’s a fully-grown fae dragon. My friend Ivalise - we met in the Argent Crusade - gave her to me. What do you think; cute, isn’t she?” Cake, by way of greeting, approached Solsang and slowly dragged her tongue up his entire left side. Solsang shivered at the touch, certain he was about to be eaten.

So this must be the thing Dranaethas wanted to be rid of so badly. Solsang needed to tell this Crusader to dispose of his pet now, or he would never have a hawkstrider to call his own.  
Unfortunately he found coming up with a plan to be very difficult with Cake continuously licking the side of his face.

“Look at that, she likes you! Isn’t she just the sweetest dragon you’ve ever met?” Mordenai fawned.

“Don’t dragons turn into people?” was all Solsang could think to say.

That, at least, got Cake to stop licking him. The fae dragon looked at him quizzically as if truly considering the notion. After a moment’s hesitation she opened her mouth and spoke in an airy voice, “Could I be friends with the cats if I were a person?”

“I imagine you’d have an easier time of it as a person than as a dragon licking them,” Solsang responded, uncertain. Beside them, Mordenai cupped his hands over his mouth and his eyes shone in unadulterated glee.

“Fair point. I had never thought of it that way.” Cake dipped her head in thought, before coming to an apparent decision. First her scales sparkled, then her whole form shimmered. Light engulfed her, melted into an amorphous blob, then reformed into a shape barely taller than Solsang. When the light fell away, an elven woman stood in Cake’s place. “How’s this?”

“Perfect! How come you never told me you could do that?” Mordenai asked, gaping at his new friend. “Think you could teach me to turn into a dragon? It’s only fair, if you’re going to be walking around as an elf.”

Cake laughed, a giggle that sounded more like the fae dragon’s chirp than any sound a person would make. “Perhaps. That would require demonstration, and I think I’d like to stay this way for a while. Why don’t we discuss it over tea, hm?”

Already warming to the idea, Mordenai led Cake from the room by her hand, the two of them deeply engrossed in a discussion about which cat it was safe to lick. Solsang was again left alone, entirely bewildered. He doubted this story was one he should ever share with anyone, but at least he could leave safely with one bit of knowledge.  
He was going to get his white hawkstrider.


End file.
